


even in paradise you have to toil

by MigrantMayhem



Series: healing takes time, like seeds growing to flowers [5]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Crushes, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, Secret Relationship, Stress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29384292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MigrantMayhem/pseuds/MigrantMayhem
Summary: Willow might have bitten off more than she could chew this season, and combined that with the stress of discovering two of your best friends had been a little bit more than that-- well, she has to have someone to turn to.
Relationships: Abigail & Sam & Sebastian (Stardew Valley), Abigail/Sebastian (Stardew Valley), Sam & Female Player (Stardew Valley)
Series: healing takes time, like seeds growing to flowers [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154150
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	even in paradise you have to toil

**Author's Note:**

> fall 11, year 1

Willow sighed through her teeth, valiantly trying to pretend that her anxiety wasn’t tightening in her shoulders as she looked at the sprouts of cranberry bushes that she had spent days tirelessly tending to. They weren’t growing fast enough to her liking-- she needed 100 cranberries by the end of the season to finish Lewis’ order. She’d collected 17 so far, and it was mid-Autumn. She clicked her tongue, shifting her gaze to her mish-mash of lopsided pumpkins that she grew from seeds she’s scavenged-- only one looked good enough to eat, but that was the one she was going to keep. The Stardew Valley Fair was only five days away now, and she didn’t think she had scrounged up nearly enough to make a half-decent grange display. She had been keeping every piece of produce she’d harvested, meticulously picking them over to assess any deformities, imperfections, inadequacies. Literally all of them had one or even two fatal flaws.

She didn’t even know why she cared-- She never claimed to be a farmer, she just happened to grow and make profit off of the vegetables she grew. She gardened for fun, that’s what she told everyone, she was  _ not  _ a farmer.

But she didn’t have a steady job. No one in Pelican Town was really hiring, or could afford to be hiring, either-- well, other than the Jojamart, but she couldn’t work  _ there _ . Winter was coming and she needed enough money to make it through. She hoped the fair would give her a chance to hawk her wares and get some extra income. She chopped the pumpkin off at the stem and carried it inside, setting it in the most open shelf in her refrigerator with the rest of the mismanaged plants. Her haul wasn’t especially impressive-- at least, not to her. She didn’t know what she was looking for, exactly, but a few quick internet searches confirmed whatever was going on with her fridge was  _ not  _ it. She swallowed. Between this, and the cranberries, all her ventures this season were going to fall flat.

She went back out to the garden, and she looked over everything one last time. She had done everything she could for the day, and if she spent one more minute looking over her pathetic patches of cranberry bushes, she would scream.

Her feet turned her towards the town, anxiety prickling at her spine.

She walked until she hit a familiar, solid mahogany door. Robin’s house, more specifically to see a certain programmer probably buried in the basement under lines and lines of code. She didn’t even want to talk-- just sit, Seb’s bedroom was so cave-like it was almost like a personal shelter. 

She opened the door without knocking, and released a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding when Robin wasn’t at the counter. She whipped around the corner and down the stairs, until she hit the door at the bottom. She knocked twice before swinging it open.

Her boots skidded to a stop not even an inch inside the doorway, looking up to see Seb, wide-eyed with his shirt half on, before her eyes fell on Abby, curled under his covers, purple hair a mess.

“Fuck,” The words tumbled out of her mouth as she quickly backed up, backed out, back up the stairs, “Sorry.”

“Wait, Wil--” Seb called.

His voice was muffled behind the door, slammed swiftly as Willow ran up the stairs. She ran up the stairs and out of Robin’s house, out into the streets, so blissfully quiet. She ran all the way to Sam’s house. She knocked frantically, feeling like her throat was trying to close up.

Jodi answered, and her gaze was immediately filled with concern. Willow knew she’d regret this come the ladies’ weekly aerobics meetup, but for now she kept herself barely contained through the, “Is Sam in his room?”

She was practically hyperventilating.

Jodi could only nod, stepping out of the way and Willow quickly dashed around the corner, down the hall, knocking twice on Sam’s door before hesitating. What if he was in bed with someone, too? What if Thursday was everyone’s  _ fuck-night _ \--

The door opened under her fist and Sam’s ocean-blue eyes filled with deep worry.

“Willow? Come in,” He ushered her inside and her breath hitched. She felt something snap inside her and all of her composure disappeared. A sob rose out of her throat without warning and she whined, squatting down to the floor and hugging her knees to her heaving chest. She felt every click in her throat, every hot tear that slid down her throat, as she cried violently. Something heavy and warm draped around her shoulders and her fingers latched onto it’s edges-- thick denim, Sam’s jean jacket with the fur inside. She couldn’t help but pull it around herself and rock. Eventually Sam’s hand came up to brush her knee, before reaching up and rubbing his fingers through her hair.

“Hey, Willow, what’s going on? I don’t know how to help, so you’ve got to talk to me.”

She shivered despite the warmth of his coat and his care, and she wiped her eyes and nose on the skin of her wrist. She finally met his gaze for a moment before looking down.

“I-- I don’t know--” She sniffled, “I-- I’m just  _ fucked _ , Sam, I just--”

“‘Fucked’ how?”

“Fucked as-- as in I’m not going to get  _ anything  _ done this season-- I just  _ fucked up  _ and now I’m not gonna meet my orders, I’m not gonna be able to sell anything at the Fair, and I-I’m going to  _ starve  _ this winter because I won’t have the money--”

“Woah, woah, okay. Hold on. Slow down, Wil.” His hand was firm on her shoulder and it grounded her just enough to shake the next wave of painful sobs.

She exhaled heavily, swallowed, and cleared her throat before she continued. “I took this order for Lewis to get a 100 cranberries to him before the end of the season-- for the improvement of the town, you know? Something about a shipment to Zuzu but--  _ Yoba _ , cranberry bushes don’t produce very many cranberries-- so I bought some more seeds but they take so long to grow, and now there’s no way I’m gonna be able to harvest them all in time, and--”

“What else?”

Willow drew a breath, “A-And then there’s this fucking fair, Lewis expects me to put together a grange display, which would be great, since it’ll help me sell more of my other produce to make up for the divet I’m going to lose thanks to all of those cranberry seeds-- shit’s  _ expensive _ \-- but I’m not  _ actually  _ a good farmer-- I do this shit for fun, and just  _ happen  _ to make money off of it! Now I have to or I’m going to starve or freeze to death, and I just-- my eggplants look like fucking bananas! My pumpkins look like squash! My apples look like something a witch would offer you that would  _ immediately  _ kill you!” She managed a rough, hysterical giggle, “My stuff isn’t  _ grange  _ friendly, it’s ugly, it’s  _ functional _ . And I just--”

“Hang on, take a deep breath. What else?”

“I just-- I went to see Seb about it-- y’know, put a band-aid on it, but when I got there--”

Sam’s brows rose to his hairline, “Oh fuck, what day is it?” He asked frantically, dashing to the little planner he had been trying valiantly to use.

“Abby was there, all cozy in Seb’s bed-- I think they were  _ fucking _ \-- and I just--”

“Shiiiit,” Sam muttered, glancing at his phone to double check the date.

“Are they a thing?? Were they ever going to tell me? I thought they were just friends, but--” Willow didn’t mean to be shouting.

“Their thing is… complicated. I guess it’s not complicated. They tell me it’s super simple. I chose not to ask about the details.”

“So they’re not dating? Just… like, fuckbuddies?”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess.”

Willow chuffed, sarcasm bitter and biting, “Fantastic. I would have  _ loved  _ to know that earlier.”

There was a long, suffocating silence between the two of them, before Willow finally stood up, keeping the jacket pulled tight over her shoulders.

“I… I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I’ve just been, I guess, I’ve been really stressed out. And I don’t even know why-- it’s not like any of this matters, I’ve never cared about stuff like this before. I shouldn’t--”

“But you do. You  _ do  _ care, Wil. You probably have for a long time. So yeah, you’re stressed out about failing Lewis, of failing the town. And with Seb and Abby--”

“It’s just… It’s hard to roll with the punches when they don’t stop coming. I feel like I’m spiralling.”

“How long has this been eating at you?”

Willow swallowed. “Since… since at least last week. Whenever I got the letter about the fair.”

“Too long. Come talk to me, next time. Any of us. Just… not on the 11th. Or, the 24th.”

“They’ve scheduled their hookups?” Willow asked in disbelief.

“Like I said, it’s a lot more complicated than either of them act like it is. I prefer not to ask.”

Willow sighed, studying her boots.

“You want me to talk to Seb?”

Willow shook her head. “No, please don’t. I don’t want him or Abby thinking I’m some weird prude or something. So what, they’re having sex. I’ve done casual sex enough, I can’t talk.” Despite her words, her blood boiled.

Sam just stared at her. “You can hang out, you know. Make yourself comfortable.”

She looked up at him, glancing around his room awkwardly. He shook his head, laughing lightly to himself. “Go on, sit on the bed. Sprawl out. Just don’t-- don’t like, touch anything that looks weird.”

This made Willow snort. She walked over to his bed and gingerly, delicately sat down on the side, heels on the bedframe, knees tucked into her chest.

“You and Seb are too damn similar, you know.”

“Excuse you, I’m not a shut-in.”

“Yeah, but you both bottle everything up until the last minute. It’s not healthy.”

“I mean, it’s all just  _ little  _ things--”

“But still. Here, I’ve been working on a new song. You wanna hear it?”

Sam picked up his guitar, and Willow nodded, “Of course.”

Sam started to play his melancholy pop-punk rock anthem, and Willow bobbed her head along in time with the music. She already was feeling better, in this bubble, at least.


End file.
